Listen To Me
by Thoughts of a Fallen Angel
Summary: During and Post-Comeback episode, with a few tweeks from your truly. Dang it, but Blaine won't listen to Kurt on the subject of whether he likes boys, or girls. Lots of sweetness, enjoy! R&R PLEASE! :3


A/N: So i spent the weekend watching the first and second seasons i recently purchased from wal-mart from the BEST TV series EVER...dun dun dun...GLEE! so i thought i'd try my hand at the (also) BEST GAY COUPLE EVER! (well...tv series for sure so far, but im debating top 3- Klaine is a shoe-in though:) Enjoy and PLEASE if youre a Gleek at all- REVIEW! :3 P.s. this is around the party that rachel throws and everyone but Kurt and Finn get drunk at- lots of Fluff and boy sex, dudes:) The angel doesnt have her wings for being nice, ya know:3

Warning: Contains threats, mild rape threats, bad language, and boy sex. Not for sissies, unless you really love my romance scenes enough to look past zee scary:) PLEASE I beg of you, tell me if i should write more Klaine! I BEG of you!

Disclaimer: i dont own glee

But _damn_ I'd love to own Darren Criss and even the gay Chris Colfer:3

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><p>Okay. Maybe I'm over-reacting. But one thing I know for sure as Kurt Hummel is that when another woman puts herself in the direct path of <em>My<em> man she goes down. Hard.

And so what if Blaine wasn't really my man at all? He still came to this party three very important things: one, he came as _my_ date or friend or whatever these socially and verbal challenged neanderthals are calling it now. Two, he came as my _crush_ and everyone _knew_ that as soon as we accepted the invite to Rachel's newest attempt at being "cool". Last but very seriously important as _not_ least, he came _gay. _Gay, folks! Gay like the Pride Parade or Finn in pastels or hell- me on a daily basis! But now what is he? Mackin' on that despicable little tight wearing traitor that suggested this whole debacle as I sit on the floor ruining my perfect manicure death-by-chew. Now I'm not a mathematician, but what I do know is that it has been past thirty seconds and my face hurts from the seriously faked attempt at enthusiasm while I try not to rip out her hair. Gruesome? Harsh? Freakish and crazy? Maybe. But it isn't fair.

Finally! I resist the urge to jump up and scream in victory when he finally releases her. I sigh because my head hurts from strain and the grinding of my teeth I did and because he's too drunk to go home so I have to take him to my place. Not that I object, but Dad's going to freak and I would never dream of taking advantage of Blaine, ever. When he's sober? Grilled Cheesus I worship you, _yes._ But he has to choose me. I can't throw myself out there like I did last year with Finn and even briefly with Sam. I've never told anyone this... but the only thing I've ever wanted is to be accepted and even loved. The very worst part of being the only openly gay kid at McKinley was that I never could walk through through those halls happy, so now I'm a Warbler at Dalton, stuffed in a now musical closet while my adorable counterpart has his well-earned spotlight. I just wish I could get it out of my head- all this stuff that keeps building up and it's getting where I fantasize in the library about Blaine. But it's more then that, though. I love him. It would kill me to see him hurt, but..I think I can deal with it. Not being able to have him, that is.

I haul him into the passenger seat of my car, careful to be gentle with him. I've been there, done that on over drinking and I for one am _never_ going back there. Mostly because I love his eyes but also because he's all sweaty and his hair is sticking to his face, I reach over and brush a few curls out of his face, hating all that gel he wears. I don't even like the gel I have in my hair right now, but with Blaine it's different. His curls are who he is. And quite frankly they're sexy as hell. Having all those sexy curls mussed when we-

No. Kurt Elizabeth Hummel you are _not _fantasizing about your gay best friend while he's drunk. I simply will not allow it.

We pull into the driveway and I rest my head on the steering wheel and breathe. How can I be the one to have this life? Why me? I just sometimes wonder if it's me or something I did at birth, like an innocent but deadly crime.

I stop my personal pity session to raise my head as I hear a light snore from beside me. It's..Blaine. I never realized how beautiful he was until now. I study him as he slumbers peacefully. It may seem creepy, but yes I take as long as I can as I hop out and stroll over to his side of the car. Shaking his shoulder lightly, I whisper "Blaine...Blaineeee... Wake up!" Apparently he doesn't want to move. Fine. I tickle his side lightly and I'm rewarded with a flailing limb scene and a bruise on my chest I'll find later. Okay, so no tickling. Hmmm... Ahha! Singing! I take a deep-ish breath and begin. I've been wasting my time, I've been losing my mind..." He stirs and I smile. It's the song by Nick Jonas I've been dying to sing to him, but I just don't have the courage. So why am I blushing like an idiot and trying not to think bad thoughts when he throws his arms around my neck and demands I carry him to my room? All part of the plan of course...said plan has not been formed yet,but still. I smirk and lift him, leaving my bag in the car. We make it up to my room unscathed but for a few bruises to my hip from Blaine enthusiasticly hugging me and thus throwing us off balance into the isle of the kitchen. Of course he's out like a light by the time I lay him on the bed and go off to moisturize, and I smile at how innocently beautiful he is. I go and get a wet cloth and sponge the gel from his hair, letting my pillow get wet but not caring too much. He'll thank me when his hair doesn't turn gray before 55.

I try not too think too much about the warmth exceedingly close to me on my bed. God he's toned. If only I had the authority to wake him up to rubbing a hand down his stomach or kiss him or anything. Having all that tan muscle moving over me, just...

I sigh. I can't do it. I'm not his type. I'm too thin and too pale and too gay, even for a fellow gay man. I'd have more luck trying to catch Adam Lambert for a date.

* * *

><p>I'm rubbing skin cleanser on my face when I hear Dad call from downstairs. "Hey Kurt? Wanna grab some...breakfast?"<p>

He breaks off and I turn to answer him, not knowing he's come up the stairs while speaking and was now quite interested that the form on my bed wasn't me.

"Yeah Dad, breakfast sounds good. Can I get Blaine up though? We were over at Rachel's place and it was too late to drive home; he wouldn't have gotten back till 3 in the morning if I would have driven him," I answer, apprehensive to his answer. I've never had a guy over, ever. Not even Glee friends besides Finn or the girls. Still, I'm curious and worried to the fact that I might have to call Carol so he won't upset his blood pressure too much.

He looks thoughtful and then accepting and I breathe a sigh of relief. "Okay," he says, "I'll let you guys get dressed and then we'll go to I-HOP, but we'll talk about this later, kay?" Uh-oh. He wants to talk. Great- now I'm probably going to get some sort of sex talk that will leave us both red in the face and awkward for days.

"Kay, Dad." I say, and then shoo him away so we can dress.

I turn to the bed to see Blaine still peacefully asleep, head stuff under the pillow and mysteriously shirtless. I poke him, careful to be out of harm's way. "Mmmm..." He mumbles, moving the pillow away slightly. Smiling, I poke at his cheek again, wondering how he wakes up. Does he flail? Jolt awake?

I'm interrupted by his saying something. Leaning in, I hear him mumble "Rac...hhhhh" and then something unintelligent.

"What, Blaine?" I ask, my brow furrowing. What did Rac hhhhhh mean?

"Rachel...mmm..." he says again.

My smile drops and hurt spreads through me like a foreign disease. Rachel? Oh no..that kiss! He _has_ to be gay! Blaine rolls over and lifts his head as I choke back severely unwanted self-pity sobs. "Kurt? Wha's goin on?" He says, sleep evident in his groggy answer. "Ugh...my head." he groans and throws his head back onto the pillow.

"Nothing..just find your shirt, my Dad's taking us to I-HOP." I sigh and find his shirt as he stretches, trying very hard not to stare at all that muscle as tears threaten. "Here." I hand it to him.

"Thanks," he smiles, and then frowns as a curl falls in his line of vision. "Why's my hair like this? And where's my gel? Crap! It's still in my dorm!" He exclaims, answering his own question. I breathe out slowly and turn to face him, managing to school my features normal. "So? I think it looks much better when it's curly," I say teasingly.

My phone vibrates and I take it from my white skinnys. New text from Rachel. Hmph. What could she want?

**Rachel:**_** Hey, is Blaine with u? I wanted to...talk to him**_

I type a reply quickly as Blaine ties his sneakers.

**Me: **_**About what? and Yeah he's next to me**_

I wait a few seconds but no text comes. Hmm. Maybe it was about a song? Oh well. I stop my train of thought as my phone vibrates. She's calling. I answer: "Mhmm? What do you want Rachel?"

She seems hesitant when she says "Can I talk to Blaine?"

"Why?" What's she up to? I hand the phone to him and mouth it's Rachel. Turning, I glimpse the smile on his face before I walk into my closet to get my black Doc Martens. He likes her.

"Yeah, okay, I'm down for that. 'Kay, see ya Rachel. Tonight at the Stix, gotcha, bye." He hangs up and I'm cold. What was _that_ all about?

"So..." He snubs his toe in my carpet. "I have a date with Rachel tonight..."

I cough and drop my jacket and phone when he hands it to me. "What? I thought..but...what?"

His expression is sheepish as I pick up my things and walk backward to keep my eyes on his face. "I think I like her," he says. "That kiss was...whoo man, it was something."

"You're gay, Blaine." I cross my arms across my chest when we reach the bottom of the staircase, amazed I didn't break my neck on the way down backwards.

He stares me down. "Maybe I'm not." I gape and my throat closes off as he sweeps pass me.

So this is what heartbreak is like.

* * *

><p>We drive in silence in my dad's pick-up, all three of us in the front, seeing as there's not a backseat. Silence is cutthroat and I'm driving, seeing that my dad's not very good at it anymore due to his heart attack. Kinda made his coordination worse than usual. With Blaine's thigh rubbing against mine and his hair bouncing adorably with all those curls, It's hard not to stop the car and kiss him in front of my dad then and there. But of course I'd never do that, if only because I don't have the balls and that I've never kissed anyone, minus Brittany last year and Karofsky's freak attack at McKinley a few weeks back. I didn't know the theory; Brittany had just lain on mecrushed me (she was a bit bigger than me, if that's not completely sad) and done all the work in my attempt at turning straight for my dad, and Karofsky's assault just reminded me of animals eating each other and still gave me nightmares. Blaine of course was staring straight ahead and my dad was humming Journey and oblivious to the tension.

I finally broke the silence by turning on the radio to my favorite pop station. In the Next Room by Neon Trees blasted out and Blaine smiles. He loves Neon Trees, I was even giving him a signed cd from the band's newest album for his birthday April 3rd, along with a few surprises. Only if we survived, that is.

The song ended and the announcer said something about a dream when I tuned back in. Teenage Dream by Katy Perry came on and my face heated. Our meeting song. He had sung this at a kind of pep rally when I first met him, failing miserably in spying this past November. I've known him for barely three months and I was already staking claims? Very nice, Hummel. Though I _do_ believe I have more claim than Rachel, who only saw him for the second time last night if you counted 5 minutes of time at the mall with Me and Mercedes also there.

Praying thanks to Grilled Cheesus as we pull into I-HOP, I slam my hand on the button and park, ignoring Blaine's hurt look. He doesn't see it, get it. That song means more to me than he knows; but I'm his friend and he's now insane and "straight", so I'll not go there with him.

I don't think I've ever been more furious with myself before when not in a self-hating mood. It was my fault for taking him to that party, my fault I even gave him all my friends' numbers and my fault he was texting the girl I was loathing more and more by the minute. My dad looked at me, clearly confused. I shook my head and wallowed in my third cup of coffee, leaving my cinnamon rolls and hashbrowns untouched. I loved Burt Hummel, I really did, but him as my Dad made it very much embarrasing to talk to about me being gay; it was usually Carol I'd go to, or even Finn once or twice. Blaine finally put down his phone to dig into his chocolate chip pancakes, at which I always made fun of him for. He insists on being as childish as possible when we weren't at school, to "preserve my youth when not in uniform" as he says.

I stifle a laugh when he gets whipped cream on the tip of his nose in his enthusiasm, but resist the urge to kiss it off and instead gesture at my own face. "You have, um, whipped cream just there." I point.

"Where?" He crosses his eyes and I laugh. "Here?" he asks and puts the same amount on my nose in retaliation for laughing. We both crack up at how ridiculous we are and I reach over for a napkin and clean off his face, smiling tenderly and laughing. I freeze as his brow furrows and we hear his phone go off. I jerk back in my seat and stand. "I'm going to the bathroom," I choke out and stride to the restroom. Leaning my head against the wall, I turn on the water and sink to the floor.

How long am I supposed to keep this up? I wonder as tears free themselves and streak my face blotchy. I wash my face and take some moisturizer out of my bag, glad I brought it and that I don't have lasting affects from crying when it's short.

Dad's leaving a tip when I come out and we walk to the car in silence, Blaine still texting Rachel.

* * *

><p>The ride back to Dalton kills me, but I manage. Blaine had David and Wes bring down his car so he could meet Rachel up at the restaurant instead of me driving him and picking him up, thank god. I really don't think I'd be able to handle it, the stress of waiting, so I decided to drive back early so I could study. It really doesn't help that we share a room, though. Blaine's a senior and requested me as his roommate when I first transferred, and I can't help thinking that one of these days he's going to bring home Rachel and they'll be fucking in our room and I'll walk in and die of heartbreak on the spot.<p>

I wake to the sound of the door to my room creaking open as Blaine gets home from his date. How did it go? I want to rush to him and confess everything, but I suspect it would only make everything worse. His bed moans and I bite my lip. Tomorrow's Sunday. How am I supposed to go to Warbler practice and then go for our routine coffee at the Bean? I can't, but I'm also wary about letting him out of my sight. I don't care if she's forty minutes away or four hundred; Rachel Berry is going to be shut out by him. I'll just plot and hog him to myself. No, no. I can't do that. Blaine's too smart to be overthrown that easily. Besides. I don't have a chance anymore. I'm just not good enough for straight boy.

I can't sleep, damn it. All I keep imagining is her with her lips all over him and jealousy swarms through me. The only time those lips have ever even been touched to me is when Blaine kissed my forehead after our confrontation with Karofsky, but that was completely platonic. He never answered me when I smiled a certain way or anything. But weren't our duets flirty and meaningful? I thought my heart would burst in my chest when we sang Baby it's Cold Outside. I want to be the one he looks at lovingly.

Wait. Lovingly. I remember Finn talking to Rachel at the party a few minutes before the game of Spin the Bottle that ended my life. He was telling her something about types of drunks, how alcohol can affect the horomones in people. What if their attraction only worked when the alcohol level in their blood was high? Like Santana almost never cried sober, but drunk she was a weepy mess? Or Lauren actually hung herself over Puck and he didn't have to lift a finger? Or even Mercedes! She laughs a lot when not drunk, but booze her up and she'll roll on the floor for hours.

That was it! No way dapper gentleman Blaine would feel anything if I could keep him completely sober for their next date. Then I know I would buck up and ask him out. No cold feet or invisi-balls or anything like that.

Lying in bed at 4 in the morning watching your roommate sleep may _sound_ stalker-rapist-creepy, but trust me. If any innocent bystanders that didn't even know Blaine sat and watched him sleep for the bare minimum of five minutes they'd ooh and ahh and demand they stay longer. He's just that adorable with his hair down and curly and his face looking so angelic. And dear Grilled Cheesus when he sleeps half naked? Gay boys such as myself burn all porn in worship.

Seriously. I actually got rid of all of my Playgirl magazines when it got too hot a couple weeks ago from the expensive heaters at Dalton and Blaine slept in loose green plaid boxers. Do I have to say that though green was my favorite color before, it's now a royal god's color? Well, just in case no one got it, it is.

What I don't understand is how Blaine is so..ripped. The Warblers sing freaking amazing, but we don't dance as much as any of the other groups; we mainly sway or walk circles around each other and Blaine's a senior so he doesn't have gymnastics or P.E like I do. He does archery, sure, but mainly as his club requirement and all they do is stand there and shoot arrows or jog to get arrows. How does he get those abs or muscles? Now the things he _could_ be doing always manage to flit into my front brain lobe... but of course I would never even attempt to tell him all my kinks and fetishes- cool Blaine Anderson just isn't the type.

What's more is that I'm so pathetic I fell asleep thinking of my schoolgirl worthy crush and woke up crying about a neanderthal that had a crush on _me._

* * *

><p><em>Karofsky stood tall, leering down at me like he could see through my clothes. I shouted. "<em>_**What **__is your __**problem?"**_

"_You," He said huskily. "Always you. You can't handle being a fag in private, so you come and rub it in my face? I take what I want, Lady Boy. You'll soon find out for yourself what I want."_

_"I thought you were a homophobe Dave? What happened, decide to dance out of the closet in your football pads and hockey jersey? Hmm?" I snapped. Bad idea. _

_I was rewarded by being slammed up against the lockers, wincing at the bruises I'd still have weeks later. _

_"You think just because we're in a public place that I can't make you bite your tongue literally? Make you into all those things I've ever said about you? Because I can and will, and you know it. _

_Why the fucking hell did I ever come here? Finn's an __**IDIOT **__for forgetting his skates and having to drive his mom to a family funeral and making me pick them up! I thought, panic sewing itself in my mind. Why did I __**HAVE**__ to forget that Karofsky had practice? He's on the damn hockey team! I'm at the community center where they practice on Saturdays! How could I forget? Did I think that just because I'm out of McKinley that I'd be safe? I started Dalton Thursday and I'm already slipping! Is this what it takes to help me remeber the fear this ignoramus instilled in me?_

_"What, you think you can get away with this? I..I texted my boyfriend you know. He's on the ..lacrosse team at Dalton and he'll come looking for me here with his teammates if I don't meet him in twenty minutes." I croaked, Karofsky's elbow against my throat __**really**__ not helping the breathing process. _

_That just made it worse._

_Karofsky was slowly turning purple. "Boyfriend? Fine. We'll play it safe for now. But if I ever catch you alone? You're __**mine**__, Lady Boy. _

_The only thing I registered was a pair of dry lips smashing against my own until I couldn't breathe and hands roaming over me before I was dropped to the floor. _

_"Don't forget." He said, an evil smirk on his face. _

_All I could do was cry for fourty minutes, get up, put on emergency concealer, and push everything to the back of my mind and put on my best fake smile to go meet Blaine. _

_Too bad the boyfriend thing was a lie._

Thrashing in my sleep sucked for other innocents, as Mercedes often pointed out.

I was only dimly aware of the strong pair of arms around me as I fought and sobbed (increasingly) frantic-like.

It took a solid five minutes for me to stop sobbing hard enough that I realized it was Blaine holding me, and by that time I knew I had babbled all sorts of horrid things, not to mention probably fought and talked in my sleep. Holy hell. I ran my arm across my face. He was going to hate me now. I'd never had one of my nightmares around him before, and usually it freaked the living shit out of all who witnessed it. Dad liked to have tied me up and called a shrink, Finn didn't talk to me out of fear for my sanity for three days, and everyone, including Santana had comforted me when we had a Glee club sleepover when I left McKinley. But no one knew how serious it was. Only Dave Karofsky knew how badly this got to me; he'd seen me once alone at the mall in the entire three weeks since that day this past Thursday, and I quickly ducked into a girl's store and begged the manager to keep lookout for me while I hyperventilated since she knew Carol. I also begged her not to tell anyone about it, and she agreed when I bought a purple scarf that had yet to be worn. All he'd done was stare at me through the window, but it got to me, just like he always did. And _never_ in a good way.

Blaine was talking to me, I realized as I came back into focus.

" - ot alone, you're okay, shh it's okay, Kurt, it's me, Blaine, your best friend and roommate."

"Stop," I quietly commanded him. I untangled myself from him and stood, leaving him shell-shocked on my bed. "Now," I began. "What did you hear?"

He seemed to regain use of his speech as well as I had. "You...were crying and screaming that Karofsky was going to kill you and a lot of mixed words that kind of made sense."

I closed my eyes and breathed out slowly. "Like what?"

"You said he was a monster and then that he had to stop and then you were begging me not to touch you when I held you. You also hit me a lot," He smiled at this and then lost it. "Kurt, care to explain?"

"No."

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but I cut him off. "Please. It's not your problem. It's mine and I will not allow you to deal with it."

He sighed. "Fine, but I'm always here if you need to talk."

I smiled bitterly at him as I went to shower. "That's just it, Blaine. You're not." I said and strode into the bathroom, tears he couldn't see already falling.

* * *

><p>Blaine had his hair down curly, which I thought was strange. He had his gel in our dorm, and even knew he could use mine, so why the unruly curls? Not that I didn't totally love it, which I did, but it seemed so...not Blaine. But also a much better version of Blaine. It was almost like the style of his hair affected his personality. Right now he was smiling at a joke he himself had just told and waiting for me to crack up, which I didn't because I hadn't been listening and because I was much too involved in watching him.<p>

"Kurt?" Blaine looked worried so I quickly reassured him.

"I'm fine, just spacing." I said and then glanced at his hair again. I swear my mouth hates me, but I couldn't resist the urge. "Why do you like Rachel? You're gay. Or at least that's what you told me when I met you and cried about my own problems with other conflicts about _my_ being gay. Did you lie or just think you were?" I was overstepping, and I knew it.

"Kurt, there's something I have to tel-"

"Don't turn this into a pity party for me or anyone else. This is an actual conversation and I prefer if you answered me truthfully." Where the hell was this coming from? I didn't talk like this!

Blaine knew it, too. "You know what? Maybe I'm bi! Does that satisfy you?"

No, it didn't. "No, it doesn't satisfy me. Mainly because I don't believe in being 'bi' or anything like that. Bi is for tenth grade boys and girls that can't decide who they want to _admit_ they like fucking more. I honestly think it was all the alcohol you had in your system."

That obviously made him that much more infuriated. "You think I can't have a girlfriend unless I'm drunk? Is that it? Because I was beginning to think you were jealous."

"I am most certainly _not _jealous of her. Besides, no, I just think the only time you can be bi is when you're drunk. I've been there, done that. You think making out with hot chicks will turn you straight? Because it won't. Being bi is like choosing between shoes. Pick your fave styles and stick with it, just like you and I have our coffee orders to stick to. Quite frankly, 'bi' is a bit offensive to me. It reminds me how much I humilated myself and only ended up in being completely gay and being yelled at by my step brother that I was a fag, thank you very much." That just increased the cherry likeness of his skin tone.

"You know what? You're on. I like Rachel. We'll see who's right. I'll see you later. I would say 'Bye' but it might offend you." He practically bit out, tossing money down to join my feelings. After he left I still felt the sting of his words.

What have I done? _Why _did I say that? God damn it all, I'm so stupid. If he wasn't totally straight before, he is now.

I couldn't let him be happy, I'm too selfish. Now not only am I going to have to transfer out of Dalton to escape the shame, now I'd see them in my mind's eye everytime I thought of him. And since I thought of him on the hour..damn. This was going to be a long week. I banged my head on the table, furious at myself.

Hang on...

I raised my eyes to my latte and took a sip. Maybe I didn't have to necessarily give up, but only make it easier for them. It didn't seem like my plan would work to the rational side of me, but the reckless? Hellz Yeah.

Dear Grilled Cheesus, I'm turning into Finn. Or Puck.

See, what needed to happen is that Blaine had to believe he was completely mad for Rachel, and in the end they would smoochie smoochie and he'd come running to me, confessing he was wrong, and that his real love/lust (I'm a teenage boy too, you know.) was for me only.

Was it only me that jacked off to the mere thought of Blaine on his knees in front of me declaring how sexy he thought I was?

And in school uniform, no less? I mean, I definitely only work the Dalton Academy standard issue blazers barely. But Blaine? Hot fox, he _owns_ it. This is where my true gay comes into play. Truthfully, Karofsky was my first kiss (attack?).

He took my lip virginity, and yes I'm like the young 14 year olds that catagorize every sexual feat into a different type of "virginity." I can't help it. Now out of the 35 virginities I still had 32 left. (there are 35 to me, I'm not sure why, though I'm sure there are more). Kissing, masturabation, and fantasizing or of-the-mind? All finito. Now the others were a totally opposite _genre_, much less story. Probably due to the fact that I know nothing about sex besides what the internet, my own imagination, and late night convos with the girls and Puckerman or Finn are all I have. Most of it's straight knowledge, but hey. Bondage and blowjobs are straight too. Kinda...

Since having hard-ons in public places wasn't deemed appropriate by the public masses, I decided to drive back to Dalton on my own, glad I had thought to meet Blaine here instead of picking him up or vice-versa. It wouldn't have been a very comfortable ride, is all I can say. Singing along to Katy Perry's new song E.T, I'm kinda preoccupied until the same ringtone goes off about nine more times. Ugh. It's Rachel again. I pull over so I won't be so stupid as to text and drive.

**Rachel: **_**Hey.. Do u think I should cancel with Blaine? I dont think hes into me. He was off in space dreaming about someone else with this guilty expression- do u think it's Finn? They were prtty close at my party**_

**Me: **_**No, and I think you should go for it.**_

So what if I'm lying through my goddamned teeth?

**Rachel: **_**Really? I was under the impression that you liked him**_

**Me:**_** I do**_

**Rachel: **_**Then why?**_

**Me:**_** he deserves to be happy**_

**Rachel: **_**Ok, but dont be mad if my romantic skills are superior to yours.**_

Bitch! I've had more romance _tea parties_ that went swimmingly than you've had dates!

Ok, that was low, even for my private thoughts. But Blaine was mine, and my mind blatantly refused to help with the plan at this moment. Mmm..I was still imagining Blaine in that uniform, in that posistion...

Holy hell I had to get out of here.

I don't think I'd ever relish coming back to the safety of my dorm room as much as I did right now. Rushing up to my room with a little problem was hard enough, but formulating a plan to make sure no one knew I was here was trickier.

I finally said to hell with it as I collapsed inside the room, throwing myself onto a bed. Lying back, I let myself flush and pant for a few seconds as I rubbed my erection through my jeans. Damn, skinny jeans were tight! Peeling them off, I gasped as cool air hit my cock. I took it in my hand and stroked shaft-to-head a couple times, imagining that Blaine was the one doing this to me, his beautiful mouth stretched by my length. Swirling his tongue around the tip and taking all of me in. I throw my head back onto the pillow as white danced across my vision and ropes of cum shot everywhere. I stared up at the ceiling, waiting about 5 minutes for my pulse to slow before stripping completely and heading off to shower. Cold water waterfalled over me as I washed myself, only now letting guilt wash over me as well. I had no right to fantasize over a guy that had made it clear I wasn't the one he wanted.

* * *

><p>I heard Blaine coming back as I dressed in my pajamas early, walking out into our room to see if I could sneak my sheets into the wash without him noticing. Hang on. My bed wasn't rumpled. I <em>know<em> that when I jumped on the bed that the blankets skid across it...oh, no. Ah, hell! My eyes shot to Blaine, who was trying to figure out his new ipod dock with his back to me. I darted my gaze to Blaine's bed. Fuck. There was my dirty little secret, which I knew Blaine would see if he turned around. Throwing myself across his bed, I hurridly ripped his sheets from the mattress, yelling about doing laundry as I dashed into the hall..and ran straight into Wes and David.

"Whoa, dude! Where are you going with Blaine's sheets?" David exclaimed, and looked at me a little funny. I felt myself flush and tried to inch around them, but stupid Wes blocked my way and laughed. "Dave, are you blind? He's doing the same thing you did in Sophomore year when you got cum on _my_ sheets." He shot David a wicked grin. I stood there frozen, hoping they would forget about me. David blushed. "That was an accident! And you said you wouldn't say anything!"

Wes, still grinning, shook his head and sighed. "No, you misunderstood, I said I wouldn't say anything to any of the other Sophomores that year. Kurt here is not in our grade, so I deem it appropriate."

This was my chance, while they were arguing. I slip between them and try to make a run for it, but David, being significally taller and faster, grabbed me around the waist and halted my escape. "David! Let me go! C'mon, I have to go wash these!" I whisper-yelled, conscious of the fact that we were only eight feet from my room and there was a good chance Blaine would hear us. "Please! I _can't _let Blaine see this!" I pleaded.

They both stifled laughter as he let me go with a promise that I owed them so they wouldn't tell Blaine, still chuckling as they disappeared into my and Blaine's dorm. I hurried into the laundry room, glad it was only me and a Freshman that quickly scrammed as he saw the big, bad Junior appear. Which was a little weird, since I'm pretty sure he was taller, and definitely wider than me.

I can't help but wonder. What if they told him? No, Wes and David are better friends than that. At least I'm hoping so. I can't bear to think what Blaine would say if he knew I was in love with him. That his eyes were the things I dreamed about in French class, or that I imagined slamming him up against the Council table in the Warbler's practice room and kissing him, making him beg for me. I shake my head. No. I can't. Maybe he would be understanding and let me down easy, but I have no doubt there would be at least a little disgust.

Blaine Anderson can never know.

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><p>(David and Wes's POV)<p>

"But Wes, we _have _to tell him!"

Wes glared at his best friend. "You heard Kurt. We promised, Davey. That's exactly the same thing as asking someone to keep _our_ little secret, remember?"

David's cheeks flamed with color. "That's not the same thing."

Sauntering closer to David, Wes stopped until Dave was pressed against the door to Blaine's room. He could hear Neon Trees blasting so he knew it would be safe for a few minutes. "Davey, I implore you. Let me tell Blaine about us and you can tell him about Kurt."

David's eyes grew wide and he shook his head. "But..he'd know we've been lying for the better part of the entire time we've known him!" he whisper yelled. Wes grinned. "So? I'm tired of hiding." He leaned in for a quick kiss, which Dave sighed at and responded to enthusiastically. Finally breaking apart, David sighed. "Fine. We'll drop hints. But that's it, okay? And we won't tell him about Kurt. We'll do that after he accepts us."

Wes smirked and nodded. "I'm down with that."

Both boys grinned knowingly at the picture Blaine was. Lying on his bed, his favorite stuffed elephant wearing his favorite pink sunglasses clutched to his chest, and listening to Neon Trees blasting out of his new ipod dock. "Something's on our little Hobbit's mind, Davey," Wes said, still smirking from earlier. Blaine apparently heard, and got up to turn down the music. He turned to glare at them. "First off, I am not a Hobbit. Second, nothing's on my mind."

David frowned. "Liar. You know you can't lie to us, B. You're just too easy to read."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Fine." He sighed and threw himself backwards on the bed, gladly missing the elephant narrowly. "It's Kurt," He said, the words muffled slightly. David and Wesley shared a knowing look. "He thinks I only like Rachel when I'm drunk."

"Rachel?" Wes echoed, and David nodded in agreement, a look of pondering set on his face. "Who's Rachel?

"Just some girl from New Directions that Kurt doesn't like. I met her when we went to this party, I got trashed, she was trashed, we played spin the bottle and finally got picked. We kissed, and my head spun and all I could think of were her blue eyes." He frowned, as if thinking, but dismissed whatever it had been and turned back to his friends. "I think I really like her. Her full name is Rachel Berry."

David and Wes sat there in shock, mouths gaping wide. David regained speech first. "New Directions? You're fraternizing with the enemy!"

Wes unfroze. "I know her! She's this awful little munchkin of a girl that bosses around everyone she meets, thinks show choir is the Godliest thing on the planet, and sings excellent." He glanced at Blaine. "God, and you're dating her. You poor thing. I met her once at a show. She has two gay dads and wouldn't stop educating me on that particular subject, as well as that New Directions was going to win Regionals. Ridiculous assumption of course, since they got last, but that was last year so it doesn't matter."

Blaine's mouth was working, but no sound was coming out.

David shut it for him and smiled. "That, actually, wasn't what we meant to tell you. But do go on. Why's it a bad thing? Break up with her. Kurt's way more important than some girl."

Blaine sputtered. "I like her! She's beautiful, and smart and funny and her eyes are like crystal pools. Plus, I have a date with her at the Lima Bean at four tomorrow. We'll see who's right. So leave me alone." He pouted for a moment and then snapped his fingers. "What was it that you guys wanted to tell me?"

Wesley reached for David's hand as the door slammed open. "I-I'm back." Kurt stuttered, Blaine's sheets and a small pile of clothes in his arms. The two council members shared a small look. David shook his head and they both got up to leave. As they were walking out the door, David clapped him on the shoulder and leaned in. "We know you love him, so fight for him, kay? He doesn't need that Berry girl," he whispered,then chortled as the linens in Kurt's arms hit the floor, his face pink. "Good luck on your date, Hobbit," he tossed over his shoulder at Blaine, who stood looking at Kurt, a blush tinting his cheeks. Kurt surmrised that they had been talking about sex or something and shuddered.

When their friend's had left, Kurt bent to retrieve the sheets, only to bump into Blaine,who had knelt for the same reason. Blaine's face immediately reddened, and he muttered a quick apology before grabbing his sheets, making his bed, and then proceeding to ignore Kurt the rest of the night.

(End POV)

* * *

><p>I groan as I hit my head on something when I sit up. What the...? Oh. I'm at my desk. Apparently, I fell asleep writing in my journal and just now hit my head on my desk lamp. I hear shuffling to the right, and turn my head to the sight of Blaine in a towel. Stirring in my nether regions tell me I enjoy this sight, since my brain isn't working properly. The arousal died. I didn't need a clock to know that Blaine was getting ready for his date, although a glance at my phone did tell me it was 3:00. Great. He doesn't even look at me before escaping out the door, to my utter devastation. Oh well. Time for Phase two of The Plan.<p>

I text Rachel, asking if she wanted to do some shopping before her date with Blaine, which I would conveniently be attending, too. She sent back something along the lines of alright, but she wasn't responsible if my heart was broken in the meantime. I snort. I won't be heartbroken, Rachel, 'cuz I'm already there.

I meet her at the mall and we hang out a bit before leaving for the Bean. She's rambling on about Wicked having a premier in 3 weeks and asking whether I know what theater it will be in as we walk through the doors. I shrug and walk up to the counter and order my coffee, standing back to admire the place while Rachel's getting hers. We both sit at a booth near the back, my throat tightening just a bit when I notice that it's _our_ booth. Me and Blaine's. Gosh, I haven't appreciated our coffee dates until now, I think, while silently hoping there will be more in the future. I'm just about to declare that I don't care if they love each other till the end of time, as long as I still get to have him as a best friend, when he strolls in, clad in smoky charcoal skinnys, this nicely fitting black button up coat and a grey scarf tied european style around his neck. Of course his hair is left down curly, something I've noticed he's had since yesterday morning. I wonder if he knows consciously, since he's always complaining about his hair when it's not gelled. Rachel hurriedly puts on lip balm and strides quickly up to Blaine. I can't hear what he says, but he smiles warmly and my chest begins to ache. Just now she's captured his lips in a kiss, and he looks shocked before leaning into it a bit. I can't breathe. It's like all this air around me had become stale, but of course the Golden Couple doesn't know that; they'll come up for air in a bit, but by that time my shattered heart will have killed me off. I look away as they kiss for a few seconds more. When I glance back at them, he's looking thoughtful and smiling, then saying something and shaking his head and going off somewhere, probably to wait in the car for her.

I stand, my legs shaky like a fawn's. I suddenly have the need to expell everything from my stomach, or curl up and cry. I force myself past Rachel, who appears and calls after me as I make a mad dash for the bathroom. I slam the door behind me, sliding down to the floor and wrapping my arms around my knees tightly. I could give a rat's ass who sees me or cares, but I'm still surprised when a pair of warm arms envelope me in a hug. Clinging to the person, I sob into his shoulder, my body quaking as I dispell all the hurt, all the pain that I feel. Because Blaine will never be mine. The Plan failed, and I was stupid for thinking of it anyway, when deep down I somehow knew he wouldn't choose me, it never would be me. I wasn't good enough, I was worthless. God, why didn't I see it before. I'm in love with the one man I pissed off royally. He probably won't even deem me good enough to let me apologise, and we'll become something out of a sad movie, where when one of us dies we'll be aching for the friendship we could've had. I freeze as I recognize the scent. I only know of one person that smells like cinnamon, sandalwood, and vanilla with a bit of earth, and thats when I realize I've been crying on Blaine Anderson, about my unrequited love _for _Blaine Anderson. I struggle to free myself, but his hold is tight. I look up at him and plead "Please, let me go. I was wrong okay? You like _her, _I _get_ it."

His smile is sad when he lets me go. "Kurt-"

"No," I interrupt. "I've already made a fool of myself. You're straight, or Bi or whatever. Just..Just leave me alone. I know you want to rub it in."

He smiles for real now, but the grief is still visible in his hazel gaze. "Oh, you bet I want to gloat. I want to gloat so bad."

I snap. "Then why don't you! Just go on, let me have it. Tell me how stupid I am for falling in love with the one person that will never love me back! Tell me! Wait, you know what? Gloat to yourself. I'm leaving." I shove past him, not caring about the stares that follow me as I weave my way to the front door or his shouts that follow me. I parked out back, so I'm glad I don't have to see his car. Or him getting in it. Or...him. I'm positively shaking with the force of my sobs as I unlock my car and make a move to climb in as Blaine slams into me. "Get off me! You can't take a hint? I don't want to hear you gloat about you and that bitch, and how in love you two are."

"You...didn't..let me..finish." he's panting, apparently from running out of the bathroom to here.

I raise an eyebrow, but the hiccup I let out destroys the image of cool indifference. "Well? Go on then."

"I was going to say that I want to gloat very, very much. But instead, I think I'd rather tell you how beautiful you are, especially when you cry."

I stand in mute silence, trying to process exactly what he said. Something about beautiful and crying...

His smile drops, and he steps away. "I'm sorry," he mutters. "I shouldn't have said anything." He goes to turn away, but I'm surprised that it's my arm that's stopping him. The corner of my mouth turns up and I lean into his embrace once more. If he wanted to push me away, he would have, was my only thought.

He takes my chin and looks down at me. Usually I'm a bit taller, but right now I'm bent a little and snuggled in his shoulder, so I can see his hazel eyes. They're beautiful, so deep and full of laughter all the time. It hurts me to think that I might have put that hurt in them. I want to kiss that hurt away. He takes a deep breath and grins, really shows his teeth and the hurt sort of melts away. "I know you saw when Rachel kissed me," he states, and I look a little sheepish. He chuckles, and puts his chin on my head. It's a weird feeling, his chin lightly hitting my head when he speaks, but I crave for it to last. "It was at that moment I realized two things. First off, I was _so_ gay I couldn't stand it, and second? Her eyes weren't blue." I wrinkle my brow and he laughs. "See, my excuse for Wes and David as to why I liked Rachel so much? That she was beautiful, smart, funny, had an excellent and pure singing voice, and had these amazing crystal blue eyes I could lose myself in everyday for the rest of my life. Well, not in so many words, but it was a seperate thought. I didn't realize it 'till 5 minutes ago that I was describing you."

I'm pretty sure that I disappointed my I.Q when I forgot how to breathe just now. He continues and I revel in the sound of his rich voice.

"You see, Kurt, I think, although I hadn't realized it till earlier, again, that I was always taking your advice. I couldn't bear to put my hair up in gel as soon as you told me you loved it curly. Our whipped cream fight? Well, I'm a little bit ashamed that it was the subject of something of a wet-dream these past few days. And lastly? I found myself hurting inside when you shut off our song on the radio yesterday. It hurt my feelings when I saw your face, how angry you are with me. I played and laughed but when I saw those tears in your eyes, it made tears of my own surface. Your dad looked _so_ uncomfortable right then." He wipes at his eyes and grins. "Why am I talking so much? There's only three words I could say to you, you know."

Oh, my god. He isn't-

"I Love you, Kurt Hummel."

He _is_!

The next thing I'm aware of is a pair of warm, dry lips against mine, and I kiss back desperately. _Please don't be a dream, please don't be a dream!_

We finally break apart after a few glorious minutes, and I'm ashamed of the sweat that has broken over me.

Blaine smiles back, and I can't help but lean in again, for one more kiss. "I love you too," I whisper, and the look of pure joy on his face just undoes me. We tumble into my car, where a not-so-harmless make out session ensues.

* * *

><p>"I hope you know you were absolutely stupid not to listen to me," I say, smugness evident in my voice. We're in our room tangled on his bed, Mulan muted on the T.V and me leaning against Blaine's chest as he leans against the headboard on his bed. I have a few hickeys, but then again he has more. I mark what is mine, I think.<p>

"I know, and I was also stupid for not kissing you the moment I met you, and not telling you I was in love with you. Did I mention lately? Because if I didn't, I love you." He murmurs, kissing my forehead. I can't help but wonder if this giddy feeling will ever go away, but then I decide that maybe I don't want it to. "I love you too," I say, and tip my head back for one of his addictive kisses.

God, life is good.

A/N:AHH! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review, tell me if you want to see something more, I'm currently taking requests! Thanks SO much to all that reviewed Boys, Interrupted and favorited me! I love you all, and if the reviews keep coming, the so will the smutty good material storys known as Klaine:) (okay,so im resorting to blackmail, so what?:) ,

Thoughts Of A Fallen Angel:3


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